[~Ghosttiee~]

What is a Makoatl?
A Makoatl is a terrestrial shark-dragon hybrid recently discovered
off the coast of the Greenland sea. They have the powerful tail
and jaws of a shark, with the body and (occasional) horns of a dragon.
They usually have manes, and are covered in thick coats of fur-
adapted to keeping out the cold in their native habitat.
They live on a diet of mainly meat and fish, and are known to be vicious
hunters! Despite this attitude toward their prey, however, they
are very protective and mothering to their offspring,
as well as to each other the majority of the time.

Third of my event makoatls ;w;/ <3 Hope you guys like them : D <3

Code: Select all

Username:
Makoatl Name:
Makoatl Gender:
Where do they come from? {No word limit!}
Create a history for the Makoatl! {No word limit!} {Please nothing very graphic, follow CS rules!}
Personality of the Makoatl in 300 words or less:
{No word limit on the questions~!}

You may pretty up but don't add anything extra please~ ;w;/ <3

End Date: September 17th at 6:00 MST {Mountain Standard Time} ^ ^

Arawn Panahasi owned by Roman Torchwick <3

[siennacereal]

Username: .TheWinterSoldier.
Makoatl Name: Fia, an Italian name meaning "a flickering fire".
Makoatl Gender: female
Where do they come from? She lived in a small cave that was near an underwater volcano, mostly because other mako's never dared to get too close to the volcano. Unfortunately one day when she was out hunting for fish, the volcano erupted and her home was filled in with lava. She now lives at the bottom of an abyss.
History:
Personality:


reserve <3333

[Novi]

Username: underfaker
Makoatl Name: Vulcarona
Makoatl Gender: Female
Where do they come from? {No word limit!}
Create a history for the Makoatl! {No word limit!} {Please nothing very graphic, follow CS rules!}
Personality of the Makoatl in 300 words or less:
{No word limit on the questions~!}

wip ;v;

[Zuppe]

Username:
Makoatl Name:
Makoatl Gender:
Where do they come from? {No word limit!}
Create a history for the Makoatl! {No word limit!} {Please nothing very graphic, follow CS rules!}
Personality of the Makoatl in 300 words or less:
{No word limit on the questions~!}

maybe

[Ill]

RES

[foxxbreath]

Username: Water Witch
Makoatl Name: Bermuda
Makoatl Gender: Gederfluid (she/her is fine)
Where do they come from? Most would think Bermuda comes from a volcano, or a very hot place. However, this is unfortunately not the case and Bermuda would only dream of having that sort of luxury...rather, she has come from some of the coldest waters out there. Now, Bermuda doesn't like to say she's from Antarctica - she really isn't. But it's all she remembers being her home, and more specifically the waters East Antarctica.

Off Cape Darnley, is water flowing down underwater canyons. Because of it's density, this salty, cold water specifically sinks below the "warmer" waters and due the underwater-waterfall effect, Bermuda used to find it hard to swim up to the surface. So, she adjusted to the cold..but it was quite lonely down there, save fore the fish and occasional seal. {more info here}
Create a history for the Makoatl!
Personality of the Makoatl in 300 words or less:
res

[Hawky<3]

Username:
hawky<3
Makoatl Name:
kekoa
Makoatl Gender:
demiboy
Where do they come from?
kekoa comes from the underwater volcanos
in the pacific ocean. despite being born in
the ocean, he is incredibly sensitive to any
water and does not drink liquids, but
rather magma. his pelt used to be a
glimmering silver, now turned charred and
ashy permanently from the water he was
born from.
Create a history for the Makoatl!
kekoa erupted from the ocean as a pup. it
was a very simple coming of existence, he
just appeared from the ocean smoldering with
a beautiful light for a moment before
extinguishing. he slowly became an unlit flame
as the saltwater consumed him. moments of
panic ensued, causing shifts in the tectonic
plates beneath earth. kekoa became
exhausted quickly and floated to the top of
the ocean water, washing up on the shore of
maui. there he lived a life where he could
enjoy life in peace, staying on the island's
mountainous inland to avoid the ocean he
was born from.
Personality of the Makoatl:
kekoa is seen as a very apologetic mako.
he usually takes blame for things he didn't
do, feeling that everything is a fault of
himself despite being extremely pure of
heart. kekoa can also be quite serious
and occasional shy, tending not to
participate in humorous times in case
his jokes get out of hand. he loves to
entertain and help people, being partial
to the stereotype of the "nice guy". he
has never been very in tune with romantic
things and prefers to spend time alone
more than anything.

[Krist Fullmetal]

they are a beautiful mako, but I am Affraid school has eaten away to much of my time ;-; good luck to all and congrats to the winner!

[Relicarn]

"They called me a demon, but it was they who were the monsters."

run.
It had happened in a single, lazy blink of a groggy eye.

RuN.
One moment they were all there.
Sitting. Eating. Praying. Happy.

RUN.
Now there was nothing but smoke. Rubble. Pain.

RuN.
He could hear his mother's voice, as if from some
far off land only reached through a shimmering
portal like the glossy illustrations in the book that
still lay finger-breadths from his paws.

run.

A sudden spark of urgency lit it's way through his
spent, aching body. He lifted his concrete head
and blinked through plastered eyes. One fatigued
paw after another, he rose, picking up the dusted
and torn book as he did so.

Two months.
Two months since he'd had his last good, happy
meal. Two months since he'd laughed. Two months
since he'd heard his mother's voice for the last time.
Two months.
He smiled. It was false, of course, but he'd always
been taught to start the day with a smile.
Even if the day was grey and red and coated in a
rapidly thickening layer of smoke.
It's funny how long smoke hangs in the air after
devastation like that that spread its fiery body over
his homeland. Funny how long most things last. Of
course, a lot didn't. The houses didn't. The forests.
The others. The insects lasted though. Arawn's
father had always told him that they'd be the last.
He was wrong though.
Arawn was the last.

He checked one of the makeshift bandages on his
side, his body now a memoir of reasons why not to
trust those that come after ruin. He'd gone to them.
Asked for help. He'd been foolish.

They'd only shouted 'demon', 'barbarian', 'thief' and
'thug'.

Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names.

Rusko, Ezhno, Dante, Radio. Names, names etched
along the walls of Arawn's mind, alongside
countless others.

It was a further two months before he forced
himself to admit that there was none left but the
insects and the scavengers.

"Then you looked in my eyes, and you called me,
not a demon, an angel."

An extended paw, a gesture of goodwill.
Arawn looked up, suspicious, but thankful.
"I saw them attack you. Hideous beasts." The
other standing next to him looked off towards
his right, face pulled into a disgusted scowl,
before turning back with a vivacious grin.
"What's your name?"
Arawn paused.
His name? He had to stop himself from simply
saying 'Barbarian'.
That would only give his tormentors triumph.
"Arawn. Arawn Panahasi." He spoke slowly,
carefully, sounding out a name so long forgotten
that now it sounded wrong.
"Pleased to meet you Arawn. The name's Ezekiel."
"Hello." A short sentence, accompanied by an
uneasy grin. Start the day with a smile. How
long had it been since he'd talked to someone in
this way, a passing conversation on the street that
was painted by friendliness and compassion?

Four years.

"I best be off." The other, Ezekiel, said, politely.
"Those lot shouldn't give you any more grief."
He'd begun to cross the quiet road, when he
looked back at Arawn's solitary figure.
"Hey, I'll catch you around, right..?"
"Right."
Another grin, an ear to ear beam as bright as
the bulb on Ezekiel's head.
"Good."
And with that, he was off, disappearing across
the still road and around the corner.
For the first time in four years, Arawn felt as if,
maybe, just maybe, there was something here,
no matter how small, to stay for.

He added another name onto the wall on the
inside of his mind, but it was in a cleaner space,
a brighter space.
A friendly space.

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Username
Roman Torchwick
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Where Do They Come From?
Ruskiusal... A land of harsh rock and steep cliff.
Of barren desert and arid wastes.
But also of silver-lined trees with dripping
boughs that brush crystalline streams like a long
lost lover.
Of buzzing cities, hives of activity, filled with
markets in which even the rarest treasures pass
from paw to paw. Ruskiusal is... was... a land
as if from fairy-tale or story-book, but, as in all
great stories, there was a tremendous and
devastating conflict.
Now all that remains of Arawn's so-called 'barbaric'
country is rubble. The rocks and cliffs crumbled.
The deserts and wastes expanded. The silver-lined
trees and their crystalline lovers long since
fragmented and decamped. And the cities? The only
buzz now comes from the insects, the last to leave,
and first to return.
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Personality
Despite his long, hurtful, and even degrading past,
Arawn keeps his head high. He strives to find
those who were responsible for the loss of his
homeland, but he will not take revenge. Instead,
he aims to take justice.
His family never did like war, never did like
fighting. Not once has he ever so much as curled
a lip at those who shout from the other side of the
street "barbarian", and never will he. He's a strong
believer in karma, that those who do wrong unto
him, will have to front up to their mistakes in the
end, although he would never wish a bad, or cruel,
act on another, no matter how bad their crime or
offence. No, instead he stays faithful to the justice
system, even when it too fails him, betrays him.
However, his past, and his determination to bring
the warmongers to justice, leaves him leading a
lonely existence. He dreams of a day when those
who berate him become his friends, when those who
mock, instead joke, when those who throw their
sticks and stones instead throw their affectionate
laughter.
But he knows that day is distant, and that the only
dirt track there is hostile and pugnacious.
Nevertheless, he'll never give up.
A Ruskiusalian never gives up.

[215 Words]
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[Vexious]

dropping ;v;
they are very pretty but i have no time!